


Expiration Date Missing Scene: 68 Hours 'til Death

by Usedtobehmc



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 03:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1803796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Usedtobehmc/pseuds/Usedtobehmc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had to.  If for no other reason than to get a little Sniper action after this update.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expiration Date Missing Scene: 68 Hours 'til Death

With a sigh of resignation, Spy slid the bucket across the table so Soldier could take it and do god knew what.

The mercs dispersed quietly, the thought of impending death-by-radioactive-tumors weighing heavily on their minds. 

Spy half expected Sniper to say something, but was more than a little disturbed when the assassin simply retreated to the garage, saying nothing.

Spy lit a fresh cigarette and swallowed his pride. He followed Sniper out to the garage, voice breaking the silence with only a minor tremor.

"You’re quiet."

Sniper gave a one shouldered shrug and climbed into the cab of the van, shutting the door a bit too forcefully behind him. From under the brim of his hat and behind the aviator sunglasses, Sniper’s eyes conveyed the unspoken question. Coming?

*******************

When they’d reached the sparse scattering of trees that cooled the tiny lake beside it, Sniper put the van in park and slid out of the cab without a word. When Spy followed, he was not expecting to be slammed against one of the trees and kissed like the world was ending. Oh well, he supposed it sort of was. 

Sniper was everywhere, arm around Spy’s waist, hand clenching in his mask and yanking it off, lips and tongue on his, hips coming up close and hard, chest pushing in and making air hard to find, fingers through his hair and gripping. Spy threw his arms around Sniper’s shoulders and wrapped a leg around his hips. He wasn’t about to analyze whether or not what they were doing was a healthy reaction to a death sentence, not when Sniper was gripping his ass and practically lifting him off the ground, making needy noises that came from deep his throat.

Spy pushed the vest from Sniper’s shoulders and got to work on the buttons of his uniform shirt while Sniper went right for his own belt and Spy’s. 

They fucked hard and desperate under that tree, Sniper driving fast and deep into Spy even as their arms wrapped tight around each other and clawed at delicate skin. Spy left a sharp bruise on Sniper’s chest over his heart. Sniper left one right on Spy’s neck: he laughed low and deep when Spy cried out at the pain. 

Spy’s hand flew over his cock, and he came hard with a cry that carried over the vast openness of the desert. The aftershocks seemed to last for a full ten minutes, what with Sniper continually thrusting into him. But when he had finally come down from his orgasm, he snaked his hands around Sniper’s neck, pulling his face towards his own for a kiss.

Sniper’s brutal rhythm faltered, but he picked up the pace again with renewed vigor and broke the kiss again to concentrate. 

It was only after a few minutes more that Spy realized something was wrong. Granted he was going a bit numb down there, but he could still feel that Sniper was losing his erection. Concerned, he made Sniper look at him with a hand under his chin. 

Sniper tried at first to avoid eye contact, keeping his gaze low and focused on where their bodies joined. But he’d been found out and a moment of acceptance passed between them.

"Are you alright?" Spy asked, voice gentle. He placed his hands on Sniper’s shoulders, a signal to stop. Another half-hearted thrust and the taller man’s shoulders slumped as his hips came to a rest. 

Sniper was breathing hard from the effort; his face and chest were red from exertion and kisses and hands grabbing him, sweat ran in a few rivulets down his chest from the desert air. He made very sure to look anywhere but at Spy.

"M’not alright. Bloody riddled with tumors." Voice barely above a whisper, Sniper slid back and out of Spy, sitting on the grass. "I’m pathetic. Can’t even," he gestured to Spy and then at himself. 

Spy scooted closer as gracefully as one who had just been thoroughly fucked could and draped an arm around Sniper’s neck.

There was an entirely too long moment when he thought Sniper wouldn’t touch him back. But Sniper wrapped his arms around Spy and let his head fall on the French man’s shoulder. They both tightened their holds on each other and settled on their backs in the grass, clinging to each other for dear life. 

.

.


End file.
